


reflect in this heart of mine

by snuffleslove



Category: One Direction (Band), Skins (UK)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuffleslove/pseuds/snuffleslove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i><br/>Standing in the center of the group with his hand in the strap across his shoulders and a skateboard tucked under his arm is a boy that looks exactly like Zayn. He's staring hard at him and Zayn stares back, takes in the nearly identlcal half frown and scrunched up brow. </i>
</p><p>or where an AU where zayn ends up in bristol</p>
            </blockquote>





	reflect in this heart of mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miztrezboo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/gifts).



> um this is for cass who encourages me to write very self indulgent things apparently. must read this with a belief that zayn malik looks exactly like luke pasqualino, which, i know he doesn't, but just go with it haha
> 
> sorry if this is weird

"Oh my god - " 

"He looks exactly like - " 

"Bloody hell - " 

There are whispers all around, but Zayn's used it by now, having had several chances to be the new kid in his lifetime. He keeps his head down, shoulders slumped, messenger bag slung over his chest. His head phones lie low around his neck, play out the low beat of angsty bass and he lets it be the soundtrack of his first day, ugly and harsh in the early morning sun. 

"Oi, kid - " someone calls out. Zayn stops but doesn't turn, heaves a weary sigh instead. "Come here."

Zayn considers the request. She sounds nice enough, bratty around the edges, but earnest too. He's had worse. So he obeys, turning to face her and her mates. 

She's beautiful, red hair cut short over her shoulders and something flashy around her neck. Next to and standing a little behind her is a girl that looks exactly like her except softer somehow and Zayn's instantly sure he'd get along with her more. There's a blonde, too, and girl with vivid blue eyes, a curious boy with curly hair, a fearless boy with a careless grin and - 

Fucking hell. 

"Jesus, it's uncanny," one of the redhaired girls whispers. Zayn swallows. 

Standing in the center of the group with his hand in the strap across his shoulders and a skateboard tucked under his arm is a boy that looks exactly like Zayn. He's staring hard at him and Zayn stares back, takes in the nearly identlcal half frown and scrunched up brow. 

The other boy takes a step closer, swinging his skateboard slightly and Zayn tenses, waits. 

"Freddie," the boy says finally, holding out a hand. Zayn eyes the gesture and then glances back at the boy suspiciously, but the boy's face has relaxed into a sort of smile so Zayn shakes his hand. 

"Zayn," he replies shortly, "Cool board," he says, nodding at the skateboard. Freddie's grin widens. 

"You ride?" 

"A bit, yeah," Zayn smiles back. 

"Yeah? Listen, you should come by the park sometimes, it's a pretty cool scene," Freddie tells him and Zayn's about to nod but the boy to Freddie's right interrupts them. 

"Oi, Freds, he can't just be a part of the group like that, s'got to be some sort of hazing yeah? Like - " 

"The practice of hazing has been around for ages," the curly haired boy speaks up, "Actually it's considered a rite of passage, a necessary evil. I think it's just another form of harrassment. I mean why should it be so difficult to join a club anyway? Clubs should want more members right? Popularity as a form of value has been around for ages as well and - " 

"JJ -" a bunch of them shout out at once. 

"You're getting locked _on_ , JJ - " the other red head girl says, more kind than annoyed. 

"Right, sorry," the boy apologies. 

"Anyway, I'm Katie," says the girl who'd called him over. "This is Emily, Cook, JJ, Naomi and Effy. And you've already met Freddie." 

"Sure you never had a twin brother, Freds?" Emily asks. Katie's twin, Zayn presumes, unless they often discover stray lookalikes. 

Freddie shrugs. 

"Almost," he says with a small smirk, eyes never leaving Zayn's.

\--

There's only one skate park in Bristol, and Zayn goes because he's been dying to get back on his board, and _not_ because he wants to see his mysterious twin. Zayn's not ready to admit what it says about him that he can't get Freddie out of his mind, thoughts constantly falling back to mischief in his eyes and his easy smirk. 

Freddie's there of course, because the universe hates Zayn, and Zayn has to clear his throat and whisper a muttered _be cool_ to himself before he can approach the other boy, generously offering up a small wave. Freddie makes his way over to him, kicking up his skateboard at the last second and pulling Zayn into a rough hug. 

"You made it," Freddie says happily and Zayn finds himself smiling back, the brightness in his eyes a contrast against the grey concrete backdrop.

"C'mon then," he says roughly, to mask the way his breath catches in his throat. He shoves at Freddie playfully, drops his board and jumps on it, thankfully managing to keep his balance. 

They play for ages but it passes like no time at all. There's a song somewhere for this moment, Zayn thinks idly, but for now it's silent except for the sound of wheels hitting payment, the occasional frantic expletive before a tumble. Freddie's good, a little careless, maybe, but he has an ease that Zayn envies. He himself is _too_ careful, only attempting stunts he's sure he can land, offset by the way Freddie's watching him. 

And Freddie's constantly watching him, waiting for him to pick the next piece or following the way he turns in the air, expression unreadable. It's got Zayn's blood running hot and makes his fingers itch to run hands along his sides, slip under his sweater to feel the pattern of skin and bones. 

He rides harder.

They stop only when Freddie busts up his arm, Zayn wincing sympathetically and offering to carry the other boy's skateboard. Freddie blushes a bit which is, nice really, so Zayn tugs on his backpack too, removes it from his shoulders gently to sling it over his own. Freddie ducks his head a second, and when he meets Zayn's eyes again he's fighting a reluctant smile and Zayn holds his breath, thinks _this is it_ but the moment passes. 

Maybe it's all in his head.

They make their way back to Freddie's house slowly and in a silence that's already companionable and Zayn should feel weirder about the way he keeps feeling he's looking into a mirror whenever Freddie catches him staring shyly.

"Do you wanna um - " Freddie starts uncertainly and Zayn nods, unsure of what Freddie's asking, but willing nonetheless, _wanting_. He follows Freddie into his backyard, up to a dingy looking shed. Freddie glances back at him, almost nervously and then lets him into the small structure, standing aside and waiting for Zayn to take it in. 

It's lined with old photographs and littered with empty beer bottles and Zayn's instantly in love with it, unable to hide his grin. 

"This is brilliant," he breathes, and Freddie relaxes, smiles his agreement. 

"Do you - " he holds up a baggie of spliff and a lighter and Zayn nods. 

"Brilliant," he repeats firmly, watching as Freddie searches for his papers, begins to carefully roll them a joint. He's got long fingers and a look of concentration that Zayn wants to see around his cock. 

"Three musketeers?" Zayn asks, mostly to distract himself from the idea of his own mirror image down on his knees. 

"Yeah, from when we were kids," Freddie answers after a moment and he's a bit embarrassed and Zayn is helplessly endeared. He picks up a bottle filled with yellow liquid from the ground, watches it slosh around for a moment and then arches an eyebrow at Freddie who laughs weakly. 

"Err. It's. Um. When we're too stoned to -, " Zayn drops the bottle in a mixture of disgust and disbelief, and Freddie continues hastily, "Fuck. I should have like, cleaned up or something, shit - " 

"S'alright," Zayn chuckles, taking pity on the other boy, "S'completely understandable, really." 

Freddie nods in wide-eyed relief.

"Right?" he laughs slightly, tongue darting out to lick the dutch closed, and Zayn follows the movement with his eyes almost shamelessly, wonders whether this is what he looks like, brow furrowed in single-minded focus. 

And then he grimaces inwardly, because really? How twisted can he get? 

"Greens?" Freddie offers, holding out the spliff to him, but Zayn shakes his head, pulls out his lighter and moves closer to light it for him instead. Freddie closes his eyes on the inhale like he's thoroughly enjoying the pull and Zayn swallows hard, hand shaking slightly when he takes the proffered joint. 

"Thanks," he mumbles, taking his hit and coughing slightly. 

"Alright?" Freddie asks him, and he looks so _soft_ in his worn sweater with cuffs that extend past his hands and lie dangerously close to the flame when he steals the joint back for another hit. 

"Yeah," Zayn mumbles, watching his cheeks hollow as he sucks. Freddie looks up and catches him watching and his gaze shifts through calculation to determination and then he's tugging Zayn in, cupping their mouths together and blowing smoke between them. 

Zayn watches the way his eyelashes dance unsteady against the arch of his cheekbones and nearly chokes. 

"Fuck," Freddie mumbles, and then his hands have slid forward to cup Zayn's face and he's pressing their lips together greedily, tongue chasing toke. Zayn whimpers, ignoring the heat of the cherry by his ear in favor of nipping at Freddie's lower lip, licking up his answering groan. 

Zayn snags his fingers in Freddie belt loops, tugs him impossibly closer but Freddie shakes his head impatiently. 

"Clothes, off," he pants heavily. He only separates slightly from Zayn though, takes a pull of the blunt, and then cups the back of Zayn's head to slot their lips together again. Zayn gets more of his tongue than any smoke but he's not complaining, presses closer on a moan. 

"Mean it," Freddie insists, cashing the blunt against the wood of the table and tugging with both hands at Zayn's tee. Zayn lets him pull it over his head and then lets him pick him up with hands under his thighs, walk him backwards to settle in a wide armchair with Zayn in his lap. Zayn readjusts them so that he can feel the weight of Freddie's dick against his stomach, greedy for the way Freddie bites out his name. 

"You too," he demands and Freddie groans heavily, removes his sweater and shirt in one go. "Fuck," Zayn mutters, leaning back to take him in. He looks so eerily like Zayn, only like, ten tattoos ago, and Zayn traces the place above his collarbone where his grandfather's name should be inked. 

"This is weird, isn't it," Freddie says after a moment, as always, watching Zayn watch him. 

"Yeah," Zayn breathes out, "Yeah, fuck." 

Freddie tilts his head up, considers Zayn. 

"What's your most sensitive - you know. What gets you going the most?" 

Zayn frowns at him. 

"My back I guess and - "

"Right here," Freddie finishes, drumming calloused fingers into the crook of Zayn's neck. Zayn shudders, "Wow," he says, licking his lips appreciatively.

"Yeah," Zayn whimpers, rolling his hips and watching Freddie's eyes glaze over. 

"I wonder - " Freddie trails off, runs blunt nails down the expanse of Zayn's back and Zayn kisses him so that Freddie can taste his groan, deep and desperate, "Bet I can suck you off exactly the way you like it," Freddie murmurs then, low and dirty and Zayn's already had enough of this boy he just met. 

"You first," he says, sliding off Freddie's lap and onto his knees. Freddie unbuckles his trousers hastily. 

"You're beautiful," he mumbles, thumbing at Zayn's cheekbone. Zayn rolls his eyes. 

"This is weird," Zayn repeats, but he noses at Freddie's dick through his pants, mouths wetly at the tip through the thin cotton, placing firm hands on his thighs to keep him from bucking up. He teases, because that's what _he_ likes, untucking his dick slowly and running his fist along the shaft, light and slow. Freddie hisses, eyes clenched shut and head tipped back and Zayn feels like he's _watching himself_ and it really shouldn't turn him on the way it does, curling low in his belly and fattening up his cock. 

"C'mon," Freddie growls, hands clenched into fists by his side and Zayn indulges him, wrapping wet lips around his head and _sucking_. It's easy to turn Freddie into a litany of curses, strung together with wrung out groans and desperate whimpers, and Zayn enjoys the power trip, wants to take this boy _apart_. 

"Close," Freddie manages, and Zayn doubles his efforts, letting his teeth drag slight against the underside of Freddie's dick, and that does it for him, pushes him over the edge almost _too_ quickly. 

"Fuck," Freddie says almost reverently, eyes half lidded and heavy. Zayn's already attempting to tug his jeans down to mid thigh, get a hand on his dick, but Freddie gets off the couch and pushes Zayn backwards so that he's laying down and he can straddle his hips, bat his hand away. "Mine," he chides, but he doesn't touch him and Zayn thrusts up into thin air, desperate for some kind of friction. 

Freddie reaches up for their half finished blunt. 

"Light?" he asks casually, and Zayn narrows his eyes. 

"Hate you," he mutters, but pulls out his lighter, lets Freddie light the damn thing. 

"Blowbacks?" Freddie asks, not waiting for Zayn's answer before he's putting the cherry in his mouth, bringing his mouth down to meet Zayn's and Zayn inhales, nearly choking when Freddie puts a hand on his cock. 

"Fuck fuck fuck," Zayn chants, "Put that - wanna kiss you." 

"One more," Freddie insists, taking a proper drag and then leaning forward again to share the toke. His hand moves still, light and careful and Zayn can't fucking see through the haze of desire and sweet smoke. 

And then Freddie's putting out the roach and kissing him filthily, tongues and teeth and no finesse and he's tightening his grip around Zayn's cock so Zayn shuts his eyes, gives up, gives in, gives everything to this boy he met a few hours ago, coming with his back arched underneath Freddie's thighs and Freddie's name on his lips. 

Freddie presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth on the come down, rescues the roach and relights it, and the way he fastens his lips to it should be illegal so Zayn plucks it from his fingertips, takes his own drag. 

"So," Freddie's grinning, slow and wide and mischievous, "I'm guessing you top then." 

Zayn flushes, nods. 

"So we're gonna have a problem then - " he trails off, eyes twinkling and Zayn finds himself grinning. 

"I'm sure you'll find a way for us to sort it."


End file.
